


You're My Safe Place

by Tasteful_Lies



Category: DC - Fandom, DCEU, Suicide Squad - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Smut, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasteful_Lies/pseuds/Tasteful_Lies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After not seeing her for three years, Floyd Lawton finds Harley Quinn curled up on his porch, beaten and bruised. Taking her in, the two attempt to mend their broken friendship. Once he introduces her to his daughter, they begin to wonder... is this what they were looking for all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her head was throbbing. That was usually a side effect of having it bashed into the floor. Her vision was blurry as she dragged herself to her feet, able to feel the wet, metallic-smelling blood on her scalp, staining her blonde hair grotesquely. He had stormed out of the room, anger radiating off of him in thick waves. The only color her mind could register was his bright, insanely green hair. Though the last hour was a blur, she could distinctly remember her panic as the door creaked open. It was bad enough she was disturbing him while he was working, and on top of that, bringing him bad news, but he had always hated incompetence. 

Earlier, two of his best men had been brought into the police department, and one of them had been killed during his arrest. Harley had been responsible. She had forgotten the safety. The safety on her gun had been on, and the shot hadn’t fired when it should’ve. The memory of J pinning her to a wall, his cold fingers wrapped around her throat sent chills down her spine. His voice had been so cold and inhuman, as if he had never felt a thing in his life.

“Babygirl, oh…. Nononono, you knowww what you did wrong.”

Harley’s face would have paled further from her lack of oxygen if it could. His tattooed knuckles held her neck as if killing her was his life’s ambition. When she didn’t answer him, his other fist connected with her stomach, beating the air out of her lungs with a single strike. He released her, letting her fall limply to the floor. Kneeling beside his rasping counterpart, the Joker had reached down, gently running his fingers through her soft hair. Grabbing a fistful of it, he had lifted her head off of the floor by her scalp, forcing her to look at him.

“A clip, darling? A cLIP?!”

Shoving his fist down, he slammed her head against the floor. She had lost consciousness for about half a minute before groggily lifting her aching head. He had left the door open when he left, allowing her a view of him disappearing down the hallway, slamming the door to their bedroom behind him. She had curled up into a ball, sobbing as she held the side of her tender head. Laying like this for nearly ten minutes, Harley eventually forced herself to stand up, the blood from her head matting in her hair. She also had a split lip, but she could barely feel the pain over the ringing in her head. Harley wasn't a very popular person in Gotham, having achieved her Fame by association with the Joker. Ivy wasn't in town, and Harvey was sympathetic to the Joker, not Harley herself. 

She wouldn’t have gone if she had any other options. Struggling down the steps to the lower landing, Harley slid outside, into the pouring rain. Despite the fact that it would probably anger him more, she knew where the Joker kept the keys to his Lamborghini. After climbing into the car, Harley started the engine and brought up the address she had been given, but never had the balls to visit. After only a fifteen-minute drive through the fog and rain, Harley found herself stumbling out of the expensive purple car. The lights weren’t on, which shattered her hopes. She didn’t know what kind of schedule a hit-man had. Staggering up the concrete steps to the front door of the flat, the soaking wet woman leaned against the front wall, her palm on the cold wood of the door. Gently patting it, she hesitantly gave it a hard rap with her knuckles. Waiting a few minutes, Harley sunk onto the ground, happy at least to be covered from the rain. He’s not home.

She curled up, her arms over her face as she sobbed. The simple black tank-top and white pajama shorts she wore did virtually nothing to protect her from the cold. Leaning against the deck railing, Harley rubbed her eyes furiously, feeling dizziness begin to invade her mind again, despite the fact that she was sitting down. Her eyes closed slowly, her vision beginning to blur, even though it was already dark as hell, save the light from a few dim street lamps. Losing consciousness, Harley didn’t hear, see, or feel it when the porch lights turned on, the front door being unlocked and opened. Nothing happened for a moment as the man in the doorway glanced around momentarily before his eyes settled on the small figure of the unconscious woman. 

With only a second’s hesitation, he bent down, scooping her soaked form up into his strong arms. Turning around, he carefully carried her into the flat, closing the door with his heel. When she woke up, Harley found herself laying in a beige bed, multiple blankets tucked up around her. She wasn’t wearing her soaked clothes anymore, instead able to feel a pair of comfortable, fuzzy pajamas beneath the many layers of blankets. She tried to sit up, but two firm hands gently held her down. 

“Don’t sit up, you’ll get headrush.”

She recognized that voice. She hadn’t heard it in years, being too cowardly to visit him again since they had been released. Looking up was difficult, and she could feel the bandages wrapped around her head. Couldn’t have been attractive, but he seemed less interested in that and more concerned. Floyd Lawton. The face she’d never forget, despite her own rarely surfacing conscience telling her she should. 

“Floyd… i-it’s you.”

“You surprised? Who did you think would answer when you knocked on my door?”

“I dunno, Marylin Manson?”

He chuckled softly from where he sat on the side of the bed. It must’ve been his, unless he had a guest room.

“Haven’t seen you in years, Quinn.”

“I missed you.”

“Yeah.”

His curt response left her a little concerned, resulting in Harley sitting up and looking downwards at what she was wearing.

“Unless you wear women’s pajamas now, can I ask whose these are?”

“My wife left some of her clothes here. Always wantin’ me to clean up her shit.”

Harley was silenced by this, and she sunk back into the pillows, looking around. Her lip was aching where it had been slit. If she opened her mouth too wide, it would probably break again. 

“What happened to you, Harley? I found you on my porch, half-conscious while you bled out. You could’ve died. You have a concussion.”

Inwardly, Harley groaned. Outwardly, she sighed, turning her head to look away from him, tears filling her eyes again. She tried to force them down, burning beneath her eyelids. Her lower lip trembling, Harley suddenly burst out crying. Floyd had only ever seen Harley cry, which had been after the helicopter crash. That was because she had thought her green-haired friend was dead. Turns out, he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t be surprised if he was the reason behind her injuries. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Harley, if he hurt you..”

 

“He didn’t.”

 

“You’ve always been a bad liar.”

“Floyd, please… I don’t want to talk about it.”

He relented, his eyes scanning her pale, beautiful face before falling to his hands. He reached towards her, and she reeled back, scooting away from him a bit on the bed. Floyd withdrew his hand, sighing as he set it on his leg.

“Do you need somewhere to spend the night? This is my room, but I can stay on the couch. Zoe’s asleep right now.”

“You shouldn’t have to stay on the co-”

“Harley, if you need somewhere to stay, you’re staying in a bed.”

His words were sharp, but they didn’t scathe her like Joker’s usually did. She nodded tiredly, trying to think of a way to compromise. When none came to mind (that he would accept), Harley gave up, sinking back into the pillows again.

“I’m gonna get a pillow and a blanket and go back to sleep. You okay, dollface?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you… for helping me.”

“Yeah.”

He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, holding it in one hand while he walked to the closet, dragging out a grey blanket from a bin there. He left the room, nudging it mostly closed behind him. After a few minutes, he came back and turned off the light in the bedroom. Harley rolled onto the side that wouldn’t hurt her injured head, sighing softly and closing her eyes, trying to sleep. It only took her a few minutes to realize she wouldn’t be able to. Sliding her legs off the side of the bed, Harley stood up on two shaky legs. Snatching up the pillow she had been using, she stripped the bed of it’s top blanket, walking to the door. It was slightly open, just as the one to Joker’s office had been earlier. She whimpered softly, cringing as she reached for the door handle, begging it wouldn’t creak.

It was well cared for, and the oiled joints didn’t make even the slightest sound. Sighing in relief, Harley dragged the blanket and pillow through the flat, towards the couch. She could see his form there, and whether or not he was sleeping was unknown to her. Walking in front of the couch, she set down the pillow a few feet away on the carpet. Laying down, she pulled the blanket over her, nuzzling into the pillow. One of his hands was hanging haphazardly off the side of the couch, his knuckles barely touching the carpet below. Scooting a little closer, Harley reached out, gently taking his hand in hers. Closing her eyes again, she swore she could feel his hand squeeze hers gently. 

He must’ve been half awake, because it took him a few moments to realize she had moved into the livingroom, and that her holding his hand wasn’t a dream. She was still awake, and he figured it would be worth bugging her one last time. Reaching for the lamp with his free hand, he turned it on, the room lighting up. He stood from the couch, leaning down and peeling her small figure off the floor and into his arms, blanket and all. Turning around, he walked her back to the bedroom, laying her on the bed and pulling the other blankets up around her.

“Stay.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Her words made his heart ache a little. It pretty much proved his theory about Joker being behind her injuries. He hesitated for a full ten seconds before nodding and disappearing through the door again. Harley sat up, her back cushioned by the pillows between her spine and the headboard. She could vaguely see him gathering up his pillow and hers, along with his blanket before returning to the bedroom. After setting up, he exited again only to turn off the living room lamp.

Trodding to the bed, he closed the door behind him and yawned into the back of his hand. The clock beside his bed read “2:48 AM”. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day. Floyd told himself this was the reason he wasn’t upset about her showing up at his home in the middle of the night. The reality was he had been thinking about the clown every other day since he had last seen her. Not in an obsessive, creepy way. More like the way you think about someone who lives across the world from you, wishing you knew how they were doing or wanting to see them.

Floyd lifted the blankets and crawled in, making sure to lay on the edge so as to give her room. Harley didn’t accept this, though, rolling over in the dark to grab one of his arms. He rolled onto his back, his head turning towards her in the dark. The woman had wrapped her arms around one of his, her face nuzzled into his bare shoulder. She was already asleep. Damned woman had fallen asleep on his arm. He tried to tell himself he was uncomfortable, and that it wasn’t right. But he soon found himself drifting off as well, his eyes closing as troubled peace fogged his mind.

|| Will definitely be more chapters in the future. Comments are cookies! <3 I'd love to hear what you guys think. ||


	2. Chapter 2

Hours passed, the red numbers on the digital clock changing with every minute going by. It was Friday, and Zoe had school. Seeing as she had grown up taking care of her mother, she occasionally woke up and got herself ready without her father’s help. He usually tried to be there for her, but sometimes his work was too much. Floyd trusted his daughter to eat her breakfast and make it to school on time. When she did, she was required to leave a note on his nightstand listing what she had for breakfast.

Sometimes, her entrance into his bedroom woke him up, and he would drive her to school, glad for the time they got to spend together. This time was an exception. He had rolled over in his sleep, his body bowed to fit with Harley’s. Her back was to him, his arm draped over her waist in his sleep, holding her small (but definitely not delicate), figure to his front. Despite the fact that Harley was wearing a pajama shirt, the situation seemed strange to the eleven-year old. The woman hadn’t been there when she had gone to bed, and she hadn’t heard anything the night before.

It didn’t upset her, though. She knew how badly her dad was treated by her mom. Michelle was an oppressive woman in many different ways. It was just strange. Zoe walked to the nightstand, using her thumb to press the hot pink sticky note down onto the wood, smoothing it out. Turning around, she tried to be quiet as she left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. 

It was long after Zoe had caught the bus that Floyd woke up, his fingers curling in the blankets at Harley’s waist. She was still asleep, but the smell of metallic blood reached his nostrils, prompting his eyes to open. Realizing the position he was in, Floyd quickly snatched his hand backwards, using his hips to scoot away from Harley on the bed. As he sat up, looking over at the woman beside him, the sight of red blood soaking through her bandages registered in her mind. Gently, he took her shoulder in one hand, rolling her onto her back.

“Quinn.”

His voice was firm, his hand squeezing her forearm in an attempt to wake her up. She didn’t even move, not even a twitch of an eye.

“Harley.”

He spoke again, his hand grabbing her shoulder now, shaking her a bit more forcefully. Floyd didn’t like this. When you couldn’t wake someone up easily after a head injury, it was a pretty reliable symptom of a concussion. The blood from her wound had stained the beige pillowcase, which wouldn’t have bothered him so much if it didn’t mean she had bled. A lot.

“Goddammit, Quinn.”

Floyd cursed, swinging his legs off the bed, planting his feet onto the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Zoe’s note. He’d have to explain when she got home. Hurrying to the other side of the bed, he slid an arm beneath her legs, and another around her midsection, lifting her up into his arms for the third time in twenty-four hours. Holding her to his chest, Floyd took long strides into the bathroom, cautiously setting her down on his clean counter. Since his wife had moved out and taken all of her cosmetic shit with her, he didn’t have an issue keeping his space clean. Her back against the mirror, Floyd left her momentarily, walking to the cabinets out in the hallway. He pulled out fresh gauze and ointment from the white pull-out drawers, not bothering to close it behind her as he rushed back to the bathroom. 

Reaching up to unwrap the gauze already on her head, he dumped the rest of his supplies in the sink. Tossing the used bandages onto the floor, he cradled her head in one hand, fumbling around with the medical supplies. Grabbing a washcloth, he cursed himself for filling the sink. Restarting, Floyd cleared the sink and dampened the washcloth with cold water, not patient enough to wait for it to heat up. Dabbing the blood away from her scalp as best he could, he held her hair away from the injury. The damage wouldn’t have been so bad if the floor hadn’t been metal, and seemingly distorted with years of heat to boot. It must’ve been rusty, because the injury was clearly infected. 

“Shit, dollface, what the hell did he do to you…?”

He knew the most sensible thing would be to call an ambulance to come and get her, but in the end it would do more harm than good. They’d ask who she was, and he’d have to answer. Harley Quinn wasn’t a world-favored person. When they asked what happened, she’d be forced to reveal she had been in association with the Joker. Whether Harley’s charges had been cleared or not, she’d be held in contempt. Not to mention what the Joker himself would do to her if she gave up his position.

As he gently dabbed on some anti-infection ointment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a change in her expression. Harley’s eyes had slowly begun to open, showing him the slightest hint of her beautiful baby blues. Floyd pulled back a bit, gently cupping the sides of her face with his hands, still holding the bloody washcloth.

“Harl, you need to tell me what happened, or I can’t help you.”

She whimpered softly, a sound he’d never heard before. She had always been the strongest woman he’d ever met. He didn’t begrudge her fragility at the moment, though. Shit she’d been through would’ve killed a normal person. 

 

“Hit my head o-on the floor. Tried to ch-choke me.”

Floyd sighed softly, gently stroking his left thumb across her cheek while his other hand began to unroll the fresh gauze. Gently reaching up, he removed his hand from her face, cautiously placing the cotton over the wound while wrapping around medical netting to hold it in place. 

“You’re gonna be okay. Just try not to pass out, okay?”

Harley offered him a pained nod and a soft groan in response. Leaving again, he walked back to the cabinet with the boxes of gauze and tubes of ointment, putting them in their respective places before grabbing a small, white bottle with a green drugstore label. “Acetaminophen”, or in other words, Tylenol. Pressing down and twisting on the textured cap, he tilted the near-empty bottle over, his palm in the shape of a bowl. Catching two of the little white pills in his hand, he shoved the bottle back into the cabinet, hurrying back to the bathroom. Harley had closed her eyes, but she wasn’t unconscious. As he entered, her eyes opened a crack. Pulling a plastic cup from beneath the counter, Floyd gently took one of her hands, dropping the pills into her palm and holding the cup up for her to take.

Harley looked at the medication skeptically before popping the tablets into her mouth, cringing at the immediate bad taste. Quickly guzzling the water he had given her, she swallowed and took a deep breath. She knew pills took around twenty minutes to kick in, but she felt even more exhausted when it didn’t help instantly. She made another soft groaning sound, and Floyd sighed, glad she had woken up.

 

“He tried to asphyxiate you? And when you said he hit your head on the floor… Harley, why do you let him do this shit to you?”

Again, him bringing up Joker flicked some kind of switch inside of her head. She used a hand to gently push him to the side, sliding herself off the counter. Clutching the doorframe out of dizziness, she leaned against it for a moment before exiting into the hallway, one hand on the wall to keep her steady. Floyd didn’t argue, not wanting to stress her out. He wasn’t a doctor, but he knew it wouldn’t be good for her head. Trekking back into the bedroom, he took a deep breath, aware of the now dried blood on his hands. Her blood. Cringing, he grabbed the sticky note Zoe had left for him, his eyes scanning the list of food. Cereal, apples and peanut butter, glass of water, and bacon. Damned kid would eat a combination of anything you gave her. Cheetos and ice cream, french toast and ribs, rice and apple juice. But she forgot to drink her milk. Floyd heaved in a very deep breath, trying to clear his mind so he could think. As he scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly, the sound of a door closing echoed through the house. It was the front door. Floyd didn’t know what to think. Had someone broken in? An employer of his? The Joker himself, come to look for his henchgirl? When he didn’t hear any obvious footsteps, or any sound for that matter, Floyd’s heart almost stopped. No one had entered the house, but someone had definitely left it.

“Harley!”

 

Floyd yelled, bolting to the front door and making it there in less than five seconds. Pulling it open, he rushed onto his porch, looking this way and that, not seeing the blonde woman anywhere in sight. 

“Harley! Come ba-”

He was abruptly cut off by the sound of something inside the house jostling around. Turning to face the open doorway, Floyd slowly stepped back into his flat, cautiously looking around. Closing the door quietly behind him, he turned towards the drawers in the wall to his left, which had an alphabetical lock. Though he had used the same password for years, the meaning behind it never left him. It was like a ghost, haunting him. Typing in the password, “B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T”. The memory came back to him, as it always did.

“You ever been in love?”

What a question to be asked while she held her gun on him, her face obviously disturbed and slightly scared.

“Nah, never.”

“Bullshit.”

Brushing the memory off, Floyd reached into the open drawer and drew out his handgun. He held it in both hands, walking towards the hallway, where the sound had come from. Holding the gun so the barrel was aimed at the floor, not wanting to tempt a twitchy finger, Deadshot turned the corner, scanning the hallway. There she was. Sitting on the floor, her face in her hands and her knees pulled up to her chest. He set the gun down on a table pressed up against the wall, rushing over to her and kneeling in front of her. His strong hands moved forwards, tenderly touching both sides of her face and bringing her up to look at him.

“Dollface, who was at the door? Why did you open it?”

“I-it was him, Floyd. I-I saw him. I h-heard him laughing a-at me. I-I saw his smile.”

“Harl, no one was there. There’s not even a car out there.”

“N-no, I saw him! H-he was there, I know h-he was.”

“It’s your concussion. It wasn’t real. You were hallucinating, Harley. You need to lie down.”

Harley agreed to this, at least. He helped her stand up, an arm wrapped around her waist to help keep her steady. Leading her back to the bedroom. He lifted her up yet again in order to gently slide her beneath the blankets still tousled from being slept in the night before.

“Try to sleep. Your head’s messing with you.”

“D-don’t let him in, Floyd.. P-please don’t let him in.”

“I won’t, Harl. I won’t let that man near you, you hear me?”

Reaching down, he gently brushed a strand of her hair from her face as she rolled onto her side, nuzzling into the pillow. He stayed there, kneeling at her bedside for almost half an hour. When he finally heard her breath shallow and become less burdened, he knew she had fallen asleep. Standing up, he sighed softly, reaching down to pull the blankets carefully over her small form. Running a hand over his head, he walked back into the hallway, locating the gun he had deposited there and returning it to it’s safe place.

|| Thank you guys so much for your support. I've posted this story on Tumblr as well, where it's received much more love than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you.


	3. Kissed it Better

“When the sun shines we’ll shine together, told you I’ll be here forever, said I’d always be your friend. Took a note, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it’s raining more than ever, know that we’ll still have eachother. You can stand under my umbrella, you can stand under my umbrella.” -Umbrella, Rihanna

Harley didn’t wake up for hours, but every so often Floyd would walk back into the bedroom and nudge her to see if she would stir, making sure the woman was still alive. After she had fallen asleep, he had done his best to feed her a stronger pain reliever, the kind people knicked from hospitals and used recreationally. Morphine. If she woke up, she would’ve had one hell of a headache. He would’ve rathered being at work today. The stress of taking care of the clown was literally insane. He didn’t like that he needed to check on her so often. He didn’t mind, but the idea of Harley being able to die was mind-boggling to him. The woman who had taken on millions of near-invincible soldiers. The woman who tricked a literal Goddess. The woman who had managed to make him feel something for someone other than his daughter.

For a while, Floyd simply sat in bed beside her, his back to the headboard, and read a book. He didn’t read much, so he quickly got bored and slid his computer out of the nightstand and laid it in his lap instead. When Harley jerked awake, the technology almost fell to the floor. He could tell she was off immediately. Well, more “off” than usual. She giggled, her hand raising to touch the side of her head. He watched her cautiously, not saying anything until she noticed one of his legs making a dent in the blankets. Harley didn’t try to locate his face at first, reaching out and poking his leg as if it was a snake that would jump at her. Ducking as if the poke would cause an explosion, Harley peeked through her fingers, giggling as she poked the leg again. When nothing happened, she poked a little higher up, on his thigh before suddenly jumping on him, laughing. He held his computer up in the air haphazardly with one hand, setting it down on the bed where she had been laying. She had her arms wrapped around his midsection, face nuzzled into his chest. Floyd’s hands were in the air, not daring to touch her.

“Quinn, get off. You’re on meds, I’m not your babysitter.”

He stated firmly, though if she wasn’t in a critical state, he wouldn’t have minded. Harley didn’t respond, only tightening her grip and shifting her legs, which she had entwined with his.

“Dollface, off.”

“I don’t wanna. You’re warm. And pretty.”

Harley giggled, pulling one arm out from behind him and reaching up to poke his forehead, missing and getting him in the eye. Floyd cursed, reaching up with a hand to rub it.

“Just because you’ve got a blueberry doesn’t mean you have to share.”

He muttered, and the phrasing made Harley giggle again. He liked that sound. Deranged though it was. 

“Sorry, marshmallow-”

She murmured, releasing his midsection and sitting up, draping a leg over his waist so she was straddling him. Leaning forwards, she kissed his temple, near enough to his eye.

“Kissed it better.”

It wasn’t hard to read her mind, or to see what she was trying to do in her drug-induced state. When her eyes travelled from his own, down to his lips, Floyd decided it had to stop. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he quickly made a movement so that he was on top, her back pressed against the pillows. Before she could comprehend what he’d done, he had already backed up, off of the bed.

“I said no, Harley. Get back to sleep.”

She pouted, sitting up in bed and folding her arms over her chest. The line she used next was far too predictable, and Floyd actually scoffed when she tried it on him.

“What, you don’t like me?”

That definitely wasn’t fair.

“Sorry, Dollface”

He reached down, dragging the touseled blankets over her and sighing. She “gave up”, rolling over onto her side again, pretending to me angry with him. Floyd rolled his eyes, standing straight and walking out of the room. Just as he closed the bedroom door, he heard the front door open. Zoe had her own key, as well as one to her mom’s place. He wasn’t concerned. When his daughter walked into the flat with her leopard-print backpack in hand, he held out his arms for her.

“Dad!”

Zoe grinned, running into his arms for a hug. Floyd held her tightly before straightening his back, lifting her into the air. His daughter laughed, a sound he had always found sacred. Setting her down, he kissed the top of her head.

“How was school today, hun?”

He asked, following her as she walked to the entryway to hang up her backpack.

“It was okay. I got a lot of homework.”

“Need any help?”

“We’re learning about people in science. I don’t get any of that stuff.”

“We can sit down when you’re ready and try to figure it out together.”

Zoe nodded, her smile widening. After he had been turned in by the Bat, he cherished every moment he had with her. When she turned around in order to get something to eat from the kitchen, Zoe paused, turning back to look at him almost as an afterthought.

“Daddy, when I left the note this morning there was a lady with you. Is she your new girlfriend?”

Floyd sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he shook his head.

“No, baby. She’s a friend of mine. She’s not feeling too good, so she’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Is she still in there?”

“Yeah, she’s tryin’ to-”

“Hiya!”

Harley had opened the bedroom door discreetly, poking her head through. Floyd’s hand connected with his face, shaking his head and sighing in exasperation.

“Harley, go back to-”  
“I’m not tired. You’ve gotta be Zoe!”

Emerging from the bedroom in the borrowed pajamas, Harley had her eyes on Zoe. The young girl nodded, smiling as she held a hand out to the taller woman. Harley looked at the hand for a moment before reaching out to take it, shaking hands. Floyd watched cautiously. He hadn’t wanted Harley to meet Zoe just yet. Harley was a loon, and he wanted to raise a relatively sane daughter. 

“You’re really pale.”

“That’s because I-”

“Great, you guys have met. You’re pals. Now it’s time for Harley to go back to bed. Zoe, eat anything you want in the fridge.”

Floyd chimed in. He had been told stories about how Harley had gained her complexion, but none of them were PG. Harley huffed at his interruption, but Zoe didn’t seem phased. A little confused, but not upset. She grinned, running into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Her expression was that of someone who had found heaven. 

Harley turned around and trudged back to the bedroom, and Floyd stood where he was, not moving as he tried to sort everything out. He’d sleep on the left side, Harley would sleep on the right side. They would not touch. Zoe would sleep in her own bedroom, and not be affected by Harley’s visit. It sounded so easy, so simple. It was too much to hope for.


	4. Dopamine

“I don’t get any of this.”

“To be entirely honest, neither do I.”

Floyd sighed, running a hand over his head as he stared down at the packet on the table as if it had personally insulted him. They had been sitting at the dinner table for twenty minutes, and they were still on the first question. Science had never been his thing. He was more of a math person. Calculations on distance, time, weight… he was pretty much an expert. Somehow, though, the question “In the brain, ____ functions as a neurotransmitter—a chemical released by neurons (nerve cells) to send signals to other nerve cells. It includes several distinct pathways, one of which plays a major role in reward-motivated behavior.” had managed to stump him.

Harley had been trying to sleep off the effects of the pain reliever, and as it began to wear off, the pain in her head slowly came back, settling into a dull throbbing sensation. Exiting the bedroom with labored footsteps, Harley reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, forgetting about her blueberry. Wincing and cursing beneath her breath, she gently soothed the aching with the tips of her fingers as she trapsed into the dining room.

“Whatcha’ workin’ on?”

She asked, yawning softly into the back of her hand. It was strange to Floyd to see Harley in such a normal setting, wearing his wife’s pajamas. The dye in her hair was thinning out, the fringe a pale shade of blue and pink. She wasn’t wearing any of her usual makeup, and her face didn’t display it’s usual playful arrogance or impending sarcasm. It was like seeing something sacred. The Harley that she never shared with anyone else. Snapping out of his momentary trance, Floyd immediately looked away when he realized Zoe had caught him staring.

“Homework. You feel any better, dollface?”

“Tired. Sore. But I’m okay. What kinda homework?”

“Science.”

Zoe was the one to respond this time, looking at Harley with a smile. It was a bit strange to see this woman in her mother’s pajamas, but Zoe had seen the adoration in her father’s eyes. That wasn’t something Michelle had ever earned from him, usually looking too washed up to even acknowledge his presence. Zoe knew there had been love once, but it had obviously been lost somewhere in the wreckage of their relationship. 

“Ooh, goody. What in the brain functions as a…” Reading the paper over Floyd’s shoulder, Harley grinned, reaching down to tap the typed question.

“The answer’s Dopamine.”

“You’re loopy, Harl. I got this.”

“Floyd, I have two PHD’s. Listen to me.”

Zoe was already writing down the word “Dopamine”, guessing how it was spelt, relieved to get on with the next question. Floyd sighed, shrugging his shoulders as Harley traipsed into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. 

“Oh and mellow, I need to stop by my ex’s to get my clothes.”

Floyd shifted in his seat, extremely uncomfortable with that idea. Standing from his chair, he patted Zoe on the shoulder and quietly told her to read over the packet and that he’d be back. Walking into the kitchen, he pushed the fridge door closed, making Harley pout.

“You’re not goin’ back there, Quinn. I don’t trust him in general, and I definitely don’t trust him around you.” Her expression softened into a sly smile, fraught with tease. 

“Aww, you’re worried about me.”

“Yeah. I am. You’re not going back there, this conversation is over.”

“Floyd, I know you’d love me walking around your flat nude, but there are children present.” Harley chided, reaching up to pat his shoulder as if offering him her condolences. He shrugged her hand away, shaking his head.

“You know I earn more on one job than a CEO earns in a month, right? You can go shopping. You’re a girl, I’m sure it won’t be a Greek tragedy for you.”

“But I have things that I-” 

“Harley. You’re not going back to wherever the fuck you came from. At least not yet. Not until this cools down.” He was careful to keep his tone low so that his daughter couldn’t hear the language he used, despite the fact that his ex wife had exposed Zoe to plenty of cursing before. 

“Fine. But I’m not wearing your wife’s pajamas anymore. I’m going out today.”

“Ex wife. And fine, we’re coming with you.”

“I am so going to drag you through the women’s underwear aisle, Floyd.”

“I welcome the challenge. You’ll get your shit, and I’ll stay with Zoe. She needs more school supplies, anyways.” Grinding her teeth, Harley reached for the fridge door again. This time he allowed her to scavenge through his food, knowing fully well what she would be looking for.

“Where’s your-”

“Beer? You’re not drinking alcohol, Princess. It’s bad on concussions.”

“What, you look that up?”

“Yeah, actually. I did.”

“Fucker.”

Harley muttered, and he replied with a smirk, watching as she grabbed one of Zoe’s plastic kool-ade bottles out of the fridge, twisting the cap and breaking it off. She stuck her tongue out at Floyd as she wandered back into the dining room, sitting down beside Zoe, where her dad had been sitting previously. He rolled his eyes, following her and sitting on the other side of Zoe. She had already answered seven more questions, and Harley read them to herself, checking for errors. After Zoe finished, and Harley was convinced it was an all-in score, the blonde was offered a high-five. She graciously accepted, laughing as Zoe took the homework to her backpack and put it in her binder.

“She’s a sweet kid. Don’t know how that happened, with you being 50% of her and all.” Floyd chuckled, shaking his head as he scooted into the seat beside Harley.

“With her mom being the other 50%, it’s a miracle she’s not you yet.” Smacking his shoulder and laughing, Harley grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“There’s always my empty cell in Arkham if she needs it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Arkham. Heard it’s five-star.”

“Of course. The nonexistent meals are to die for.”

Floyd’s face deadpanned for a minute as he stared at Harley, realizing that she had become impassive, probably reminiscing about her time at the asylum. It was her past. Her past, full of psychotic clowns, crime, and people she could never apologize to.

“I’m gonna shower. Don’t peek, no matter how tempted you are.”

Though she tried to sound playful, her voice was off, as well as her expression. Floyd simply nodded, staring at the ground as Harley stood and walked towards the bedroom, closing the door behind her.


	5. Safe and Sound

“Just close your eyes; the sun is going down  
You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now  
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound”

He had spent an hour trying not to fixate on the sound of the shower water drumming in his ears, the water never settling into a pattern as she shifted beneath it. It concerned Floyd, that she had spent a total of sixty-three minutes under the water. Trying to occupy himself with other activities such as reading. After picking up the book, it took him a total of five minutes to realize it was one of Zoe’s textbooks instead of his “The Kill Artist” by Daniel Silva, which he had been trying to get through for almost a week. It frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t concentrate, leading him to hope that a day spent shopping would somehow rub his emotional fur the other way.

Harley emerged from the shower after minute number sixty-seven, water dripping from her long hair as she walked to the sink, not bothering with a towel just yet. The mirror above the marble sink was steamed, and she used her bare hand to clear away some of the condensation. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her bruises had faded, but they were still there. Her eye was no longer swollen, but the memory remained.

All of the compliments, the time… the fake love. It had all cost her something she shouldn’t have paid. Her humanity was left in shreds, dangling from her heart, which now had no protection. It had hardened over the years, despite her bubblegum bitch alias. She felt hollow inside, now. No Joker. No more Mr. J. No more Puddin’. It was just Harley.

Her skin glistening with the water, Harley took a deep breath, whispering the word “ten” beneath her breath softly. She burst into tears, taking deep rasping breaths as she slid to the ground in a pitiful heap of Harley. 

“Nine… eight… seven... “

Her voice was cracked and weak as she counted down her moments of weakness. Sobbing into her hands, the pain on her face only made her cry harder. He had done this. He had taken away her career, her life, her capability to see her own morals clearly. She had allowed him to use his fists on her body when he was angry, letting him use a bad day as an excuse for his actions. She felt special, all those years. Special… so unique. But he wasn’t even looking for his precious artifact. He wasn’t even looking for her.

“Six… f-five… four… three..”

Her words were choked, her breathing becoming heavier as she tried to make herself stop crying. As she counted down “two… one…” It did stop. They stopped as if someone had turned the handle of a faucet, discontinuing the flow. Her body felt numb, as well as her mind. As if she had cried herself to sleep, and woken up exhausted. Standing up, Harley turned to face the mirror. Offering herself a weak smile, she reached up, blending her tears with the rest of the shower water leaking from her soaked hair.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, Harley bent her body in half, using her nails to pull all of her hair so it was hanging and touching the ground. Wrapping the towel around her soaked locks, she twisted and stood up, the towel clinging to her head like a turban. There was only one in his bathroom, probably because he didn’t need two without his wife living there. Peeking into the bedroom, she left the steamed bathroom and walked to the closet. Most of the clothes there were his, seeing as his wife had taken most of her own wardrobe. The clothes she had left behind were stuffed in a bin in the back of the closet, being kept in case Michelle wanted them back. 

Taking the bin by both sides, Harley hauled it into the bedroom, still nude. The door was closed, and the rest of the house was silent. Setting the fabric bin on the bed, she tipped it over, emptying it’s contents onto the blankets. It was mainly dresses and blouses, though there were two pairs of jeans and a couple of bras. There wasn’t any underwear. Grabbing one of the push-ups by the strap, Harley carried it at her side as she walked to Floyd’s dressers, locating his boxers. They were a little big on her, but the elastic band held them on her hips. Smirking, she slid the straps of the bra onto her shoulders.

Hooking the back easily, Harley huffed slightly while her smirk widened. A bit too small. It made her laugh aloud, for some reason. Proud, she trapsed back to the bed, grabbing one of the dark pairs of jeans, sliding into them. It felt extremely uncomfortable, yet relieving to be wearing normal clothes. Last time she had was when she was still Harleen. Harleen Quinzel. That was one thing she was grateful for. Harley had never liked her birth name, and much preferred her alias. 

They were skinnies, and a little tight, as the bra was. Though she could barely bend her legs, she tolerated the size issue simply because it was only for the day. She’d be coming back with bags upon bags upon bags of clothes in her own size. It occurred to her that she hadn’t thanked him for that. She had only spat on his wishes when he refused her the option of getting her own clothes back. The guilt hit her like a wave as she slid the grey button-down shirt onto her shoulders. Her fingers absentmindedly buttoned the shirt up, leaving a few of the top ones open. It wasn’t enough to show off her bra or much of her chest, just enough to allow her whimsical nature its needs.

Stealing a pair of his socks, Harley slid them on her small feet, not knowing what she’d do for shoes. Trekking meekly out of the bedroom, Floyd stood up when he saw her, glad that she hadn’t relapsed or something in the shower. The first thing he noticed was the red soreness around her eyes from crying. The second was the few buttons that weren’t clasped together. The third was that she had walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his midsection and hugging him tightly. Floyd held his hands up, not quite sure what to do or how to react. The towel piled on top of her head was in his face, the material resting on his chin. 

Slowly, when she didn’t release him, he wrapped his arms around her small shoulders, holding her close. He didn’t hear what she said, but he knew what it was. “Thank you…”. He took a deep breath, sighing into the towel as he peeled her away from him. Stooping down to look at her in the eyes, Floyd gently reached up to touch the side of her face. His sense of self-control had faded significantly. Her scent was that of oranges, matching his shampoo. But beneath that, she was still Harley. 

 

“Don’t thank me. You don’t deserve what that sick bastard did to you for so long.”

 

Harley nodded slowly, biting her lower lip harshly as tears welled up in her eyes again. No more moments of weakness, she told herself. No, she commanded it of herself. Instead of responding with words, the blonde leaned forwards sharply, their lips connecting. Floyd’s eyes widened for a moment, his expression impassive. He froze for a few moments before pulling himself back, exiting the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it. Holding her by the shoulders, Floyd stared at Harley, studying her baby blue eyes. 

Neither of them spoke, and Floyd found himself standing straight as Zoe entered the dining room, having changed her clothes. She glanced at Harley, then at her dad, not asking the question that was clearly in her mind. Harley’s bleached skin was flushed in it’s own way, her cheeks tinted a little pink. The wet towel had slipped off of her head and onto her shoulders. Sliding it off, Harley turned around, carrying it back into the bathroom and sliding it back onto the rack to let it dry.

She could hear Floyd asking Zoe a question, and his daughter responding with a monotone. She asked a question in turn, which left him in silence for a few moments. Harley hadn’t heard what she had asked, but Floyd’s silence seemed to be an answer. Zoe made a comment, her voice sounding soft and pliable. “It’s okay, dad. I love you, and if you wanna love her, I’m happy.”

Harley stopped moving, staring down at the white bathroom tiles, taking a deep breath. Floyd didn’t respond, and she deemed it safe to exit the bedroom again, her hair hanging in damp rivlets on her shoulders. Floyd looked up when she entered again, his face pulled into an impassive expression. Zoe’s question had obviously affected him, though it seemed like he was trying to refute it. 

 

“Ready to go?”

 

Floyd asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Harley nodded, sliding her black hairband off her wrist and into her hair, forcing it into a single ponytail.

 

“Yeah. What’s my budget limit, I don’t want to buy you out of house and home.”

 

“You don’t have one, doll. Just spend wisely and if you can’t carry everything you’ve got, it’s too much. Deal?”

 

Gleefully nodding, Harley flattened her hand and touched the side of it to her temple, saluting him as she stomped one of her feet on the ground. Floyd rolled his eyes, turning away from her and grabbing his jacket. Feeling a light touch on her arm, Harley glanced down towards Zoe, who was grinning up at her ear-to-ear. 

 

“I’ll race ya’ to the car.”

 

Zoe yelled, and before Harley could even respond saying she didn’t know where the car was, the young girl had already dashed out the front door, proud of her obvious advantage. Harley sped after her, leaving Deadshot behind to lock up. Grabbing his wallet, Floyd sighed, closing the front door behind him as they left.

 

“This is gorgeo- oh my God, look at this!”

 

“I think you’d look good in that one-”

 

Zoe pointed at the dress Harley was holding in her left hand. It was a dark blue color with sequins, matching her personal style, but not supporting her previous, clownish appearance. Harley grinned, nodding in agreement as she put the other blue dress back on it’s hanger, hooking it onto the display rack. Floyd had tried to detach his daughter from their shopping multiple times, wanting to go get her school supplies. Zoe had tried a few things on, but her wardrobe had already been stacked at the beginning of the school year. This was for Harley.

He was leaning against a wall mirror, watching Harley hold the blue sequinned dress against her form. She would look good in that. Dismissing the thought from his mind, Floyd beckoned Zoe over for one last attempt.

 

“Come on, baby. We gotta get you that paper and a few folders.”

 

Zoe sighed, but nodded. Harley turned to look at them, the blue dress draped over her forearm. She had one of Floyd’s Visas, so technically there was a limit. It was extremely high though, so she didn’t bother worrying.

 

“Dollface, we’ll be over at the school suppies.”

 

Harley nodded, giggling as she ran his statement through her mind. Next time he put on the suit, he’d definitely be teased about that. Mr. Hit-Man standing in the middle of the Clearview mall, pointing out the sparkliest folders available to his daughter. The former queen of crime envied him. Having a kid didn’t make him normal, but it made him lucky. 

One of her hands absentmindedly wrapped around her stomach, fingers resting on the soft fabric of the shirt. It had been so long since she had brought up the idea of marriage-- even children, to the Joker. Of course, he had blown up at the prospect. Knocking her off her feet and delivering so many kicks to her stomach, Harley wondered to this day if he had been trying to render her incapable of having children of her own.

She had already spent ten seconds of her day crying, and Harley refused to waste any more of her precious time. Figuring that Floyd wouldn’t necessarily be looking through her bags, Harley snatched up a few different outfits that she probably wouldn’t need. She had always dreamed of attending a dinner party, dressed formally. Like a lady. 

Maybe Floyd would- no, she couldn’t ask that of him. He was already offering her his bed, his utilities… She wouldn’t be staying long, anyways. It was a proven fact she had always hated about herself. Soon enough, she would be reeled back into the Joker’s arms like a fish on a hook. Biting her lip, Harley’s reverie snapped as a bustling woman pushed past her in the aisle, her shoulder colliding with her own, causing the blonde to drop her armful of products.

 

“Hey! You made me drop my stuff!”

 

“Too bad.”

 

The woman couldn’t have even been out of college yet. She looked like a nineteen-year old, lesbian hot-topic manager. Harley glowered at her. If looks could kill, the woman would be writhing on the floor. She didn’t notice, simply continuing down the aisle. It was difficult for Harley to bend over with the tight jeans compressing her legs, wobbling and wincing as she sat on her ass, collecting the clothes in her lap.

Gritting her teeth, it was all Harley could do to prevent herself from blatantly murdering the woman. All she wanted to do was finish her shopping and find Floyd. Standing up, she carried her products to the front of the store, grabbing one of the black baskets and shoving the clothes into it. It took her a while to collect the rest of what she needed, mostly loose shirts and yoga pants. If Floyd was going to offer her his home, Harley was going to at least try to be relatively normal for him. This thought process dragged her to the makeup and hair care products, scouring the shelves for golden blonde hair dye. Her bleached hair didn’t have much color to it without the pink and blue dye, which had already faded into barely noticeable colors. 

After about ten minutes, she had her feminine products; which included a razor, scented shaving cream, vanilla perfume, cinnamon perfume, hair clips, hair ties, along with a variety of nude makeup. Wandering back into the clothing part of the store, she grabbed a few bras, not being too picky with them as long as they fit. At the bottom of her basket, she stuffed a lacy pink push-up, just in case she needed to feel… exotic. After paying, she located Floyd and Zoe in the school supplies, trying to list the pros and cons of a certain package of markers versus a different one. Harley grinned, the bags labeled “Chrosanity” strung to her arms. Bending down, she pointed at the first package.

 

“That one’s better for coloring books and drawing. It bleeds a little, though, especially the red.”

 

Turning her finger towards the other package, she spoke again. Zoe seemed interested, more in how Harley knew about child’s products than about the actual markers.

 

“Those are good for sharper lines and if you wanna mix colors. It bleeds a lot and the colors blend. And these ones… these ones don’t bleed, and they’re good if you wanna add color to your school stuff.”

 

She had pulled a third package of markers off of the shelf, handing them to Zoe. Floyd was carrying multiple folders, a hot pink binder, and a few packages of mechanical pencils in his hands, not struggling in the least bit. He watched as Harley and Zoe interacted, smirking and reaching down to take the one Harley had pointed out. 

 

After they had put their bags back into the car, the three wandered off to get lunch back inside the mall. Harley tried to order a beer from the bar. Floyd said no. Harley pouted. He gave her a donut. Harley smiled. Zoe watched all of this, hoping this was something that would last. 

|| I promise I’m not going to tame Harley with the hair dye and the normal clothes. I promise. I have a really cute idea that will probably come into play in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading my story! Comments are cookies.<3


	6. Purple Lamborghini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I know it's been a while since I updated (almost a week) and I felt bad about that. I didn't want to cliffhang because I'm horrible at writing those, so I decided to make a run-on chapter as long as possible. Thank you so much for reading and supporting! Comments are cookies, my lovelies<3

“You don’t know? You don’t know?! That’s not a good enough answer, Frosty-boy!”

“Boss, we’re still looking.”

“You’veee been given two whole days to locate her! She’s not a field mouse! It shouldnnn’t be taking this long! Women don’t evaporate.”

“We think we have an address, but it’s not certain.”

“Give the address to my driver, then, and bring the car around.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Floyd had decided it was really none of his business what she had bought, which was why he was thoroughly shocked the next morning when she came trotting to the breakfast table in a pair of grey yoga pants and a loose tank top with the words “Namaste in bed” written in bold white letters across the front. His fork had impaled a piece of scrambled egg, which was being held forlornly in the air as he stared, not finishing the bite. It was shocking. He had heard the shower turn on again in the morning, which he didn’t begrudge her of. He had showered the night before, so he didn’t have the immediate need to bathe.

He did find it strange that there had been an unusually long time span between the shower water turning off and the blow dryer turning on. When she emerged from the bedroom, it made sense. Her formerly bleached hair was dyed a golden blonde color that looked much more natural for her face. She must have coated foundation over the tattoos on her cheek, because they were virtually invisible. Zoe was sitting in the chair across from him, her breakfast already mostly gone, save for a piece of bacon. She looked up when Harley entered the room, and though the change in the woman was noticeable, it didn’t affect her as much as it had affected her father. Floyd was still staring. Some people would call her new-and-improved. He didn’t agree. She looked… too normal. Too unlike Harley. Foreign, as if he’d never met her before.

 

“Good morning, dollface." His voice was firm despite his rapidly shifting thoughts, his hand gesturing towards the plate in the spot beside him.

 

“Made breakfast.”

 

“And it’s not burnt? Add that to the list of successes for Floyd Lawton.”

 

Harley’s voice was teasing, seemingly unphased by her change of appearance. Grinning, she walked forwards and slid into the chair. She sat straighter, less slouched over. Her elbows weren’t placed on the table as they usually were, and when her dainty fingers wrapped around the fork, she didn’t take large bites. It was difficult for Floyd to watch, so he misdirected his eyes back to his food.

 

“He usually burns it, so we got lucky.”

 

Zoe piped up from the other side of the table, filling in the silence. Harley glanced over at her, smiling delicately and nodding as she finished her bite. It was strange, not hearing her talk through her mouth full.

 

“He did a good job, though. Maybe we should get him a medal.”

 

A grin spread across Zoe’s face as she grabbed her piece of bacon, stuffing it into her mouth as she left the table in a rush, headed towards her room. Harley watched her go while Floyd continued eating his food, trying to go over the events of the past few days in his head. As Harley was nearing the end of her meal, Zoe suddenly burst back out of her room, looking excited. Running up behind Floyd’s chair, his daughter wrapped something around his neck, twisting it so the pendant was in front.

 

Zoe had handcrafted a medal of her own. The ribbon was red, probably from a used Christmas present. It was tied in a careful knot in the back, while the front had a neatly trimmed piece of circular paper on it. Harley reached forwards to turn the piece of paper around, pleased to see she had used the markers bought for her. The paper read “World’s Best Cook” on it, along with a small note that read “(I love you dad)”.

 

“Ah, thank you baby.”

 

Floyd smirked, holding the pendant in front of him as he read what it said. Zoe walked to the side of his chair and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging his daughter tightly. Harley watched, smiling lightly as she returned to her food, finishing her plate. Taking Floyd and Zoe’s empty plates as well, she stood up, putting them in a pile and walking into the kitchen. Placing them in the sink, Harley turned on the faucet and reached for a scrub brush to the side on the counter.

 

“Harley, you don’t have to do the dishes, I’ll do ‘em later.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Floyd.”

 

He didn’t respond immediately, not wanting to argue, but also definitely not wanting her to do chores. She was still dealing with the lingering effects of her concussion, for Christ’s sake. (As if a concussion would hinder her ability to do the dishes.)

 

“Doll, seriously, leave it be and I’ll do them.”

 

“Mellow, calm down. They’re just dishes. Besides, I’m already done.”

 

She was, in fact, scrubbing the last bit of bacon grease from the white plate. Rinsing Zoe’s plate, she set it beside the other two in the drying rack. Floyd sighed, shaking his head. His daughter had already run back to her bedroom, most likely to play video games.

 

“What’d you do to your hair?”

 

He didn’t mean for the question to sound as sour as it did, but it had already been said and he couldn’t take it back. Harley glanced towards him, wary. She knew the question was coming, but she thought it would have been in a more happy-go-lucky attitude. Like, “Hey, Harley! What’d you do to your hair? It looks good!” But she had instead elicited lemon-face Floyd. Sighing softly, she walked back around the counter to the dining table, sitting down where Zoe had been.

 

“I dyed it.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock. Why’d you dye it?”

 

“I didn’t like my hair the other way.”

 

“You’ve told me you loved it.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Harley-”

 

“I thought you’d like it.”

 

Standing up after sitting for only a moment, she shoved the chair back where it belonged, marching towards the bedroom. As she was walking, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her backwards. She found herself planted firmly in Floyd’s lap, his arms around her small hips to hold her there. Harley wanted to snap at him, but his warmth at her shoulder seeped through the blonde’s skin, warming her to the very core.

 

“I do like it.”

 

He murmured softly. His quiet yet intense tone reminded her of their short, chaste kiss the day before. They hadn’t spoken of it, practically having a silent agreement not to bring it up. But even so, both knew the memory lingered in the other’s mind. Harley turned her head to the side, so she was looking down at him.

 

“I just don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do, dollface.”

 

The jester nodded slowly, the corner of her lips being tugged upwards even as she struggled not to smile. After a moment of hesitation, Harley bent her head down a little more, her lightly painted lips touching his nose. Floyd smirked as she pulled away, one of his hands gently toying with a few locks of her golden hair.  
Her elbows were resting on his shoulders now, as she sat sideways across his lap. He craned his neck up lightly, pressing his lips ever so softly against hers. Harley moved in return, leaning down a bit in order to properly kiss him. Floyd felt whimsy running through his veins like blue blood. His eyes drifted shut, his fingers gently running through her ever so soft hair. She shifted in his lap a bit, smiling into the kiss as her teeth found his lip, biting down lightly. His eyes opened and he pulled out of the kiss, smirking at her.

 

“No biting, doll.”

 

“Aww, but that takes all the fun out of this.”

 

Emphasizing “this”, Harley moved back down to follow the man beneath her, kissing him again. Floyd didn’t know what kind of cord had snapped between them in order for them to get to this point, but he wasn’t about to question a miracle. It was such a precious moment, thinking that everything was going to be okay. Her lips on his, his daughter in the other room, eating breakfast together… no Joker around to ruin it all.

 

“I’m going to the store today, will you be okay watching Zoe?”

 

Floyd, sitting on the living room couch, had finally located his book and was currently reading it. Harley glanced over from where she sat beside him, watching television. It was a strange sensation, having someone’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. The Joker never did anything so affectionate, labeling such actions as “mundane and boring.” Nodding slowly, she pursed her lips and turned her head back to the television.

 

“I guess, but we went to the store yesterday… a lot of stores. What’d you forget about?”

 

“I just forgot to get some ingredients for my meatloaf.”

 

“Will cooking it involve the oven being on?”

 

“Yeah…?”

 

“Should I put the fire department on speed dial?” Floyd chuckled, shaking his head as he set his book beside him. The page was saved by a bookmark, leaving him on a whopping page thirty-one.

 

“I sense a lack of trust.”

 

“I trust you. I just don’t trust your cooking skills.”

 

“I made you eggs, didn’t I?”

 

“And bacon.”

 

“And I have a medal. I’m a professional, don’t question my abilities.”

 

The ribbon Zoe had given him still hung around his neck, and though the fabric was beginning to chafe, he held out. Harley and his daughter had teamed up in a dare to make him wear it all day. He was a sore loser, but in this case, he’d be a sore winner too.

 

“Anything you say, Chef Lawton.”

 

“Finally, the respect I deserve.”

 

Laughing, Harley slid off of the couch and regrettably out of his arms. Floyd pouted, reaching up to playfully spank her backside. Harley yelped, turning, red faced, towards him. Grinning, he held his hands up, at both sides of his head. Reaching forwards, she entwined her fingers with his, leaning down to put her forehead against his and stare him down. When he suddenly deadlimbed, Harley fell into him, her forehead smacking against his.

 

“Ah, I see, you’re trying to give me another concussion.”

 

“That’s not my deal, princess.” Harley giggled, pressing one of her palms over his mouth as she settled into his lap for the second time that day.

 

“You’re mean.”

 

Beneath her hand, she could feel his lips gently kiss the ticklish skin of her palm. Sliding it off of his mouth, her smile was brighter than he’d ever seen it. Since he had seen her crying in Midway, and then again when she had arrived on his doorstep, he had promised himself that he’d never be the source of her tears. He’d rather make her smile. Floyd didn’t feed off of her pain like the Joker had.

 

“I should get going soon. It’s Saturday, so I don’t know what traffic will be like.”

 

“Drive safe.”

 

She instructed, sliding out of his lap and back into her place on the couch. Smirking, Floyd stood up, yawning into the back of his hand as he walked towards the front door. He’d gotten dressed earlier, wearing a grey polo shirt and dark jeans. Sliding his hand into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the keys to his car, then slid the jacket over his shoulders. It wasn’t particularly cold outside, but in Gotham there was always the chance of rain.

 

“Zoe baby, I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll be back soon, listen to Harley.”

 

“Love you, dad!”

 

She yelled from her bedroom, which was the source of very loud music being muffled by her door. His smile reflected on Harley as he waved at her, slipping out the front door and closing it behind her. Standing up, Harley walked to the door in order to lock it behind him. Taking a deep breath, she trekked to the window and pulled away the curtains to watch his car drive away. 

After he had disappeared, she pounced onto the couch, picking up his book and setting it on the end table. Grabbing the television remote, she began to flip through the channels. Eventually the jester settled for a show called “The Forensic Files”. She’d watched a bit of it when she had been Harleen, but had never been given the time to enjoy the logic behind it.

 

“Harley, did dad go out to get you a new car?”

 

“Honey, if he had gone to get a car I would’ve gone with him. He can’t drive two cars at once.”

 

“Well there’s a car in the driveway, and it’s not his”

 

Bolting upright from the couch, Harley stumbled over to the window where Zoe had been standing, watching for her dad so she could unlock the door. There was a very non-discreet Lamborghini on the road directly in front of the driveway. The headlights were off, but she could tell the engine was running. Wrapping her arms around Zoe’s waist, Harley pulled her away from the window, setting her down on the couch and returning to make sure the curtains were securely closed.

 

“Stay away from the windows, and leave the door locked.”

 

“Do you know who drives it?”

 

“Yes, but it’s betta’ if you don’t. Just… do as I said and stay away from the windows.”

 

Zoe, who was obviously very confused, simply nodded and reached for the sleek black television remote, pressing a button and turning the entertainment system on again. Harley sat beside her, clearly having her mind on other topics. Her eyes were intense, and unlike the rest of her they weren’t at all expressive.  
They were cold, like ice. Most blue eyes are so captivating you swear that you could just dive into them with the peak of awe nipping at your facial features. But upon peering into her frozen irises you would feel an electrical chill run down your spine, through your body making your features numb, like ice. 

Every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking white-blue staying lined up next to one and other making her eyes themselves seem like a white tundra, as if a blizzard is eternally raging on with a black void in the center that are her pupils. They don’t capture light, but defy it, they’re so, so blue that they literally glow on the very rare occasion that she smiles.  
Those eyes remained on the dimly glowing curtains, the grey fabric allowing a sheen of light into the room. The flat was silent, apart from the noises that the television was making. Zoe had inserted a DVD of some sort into the player, and was watching a movie. It was a somewhat violent film, from what Harley was hearing, but she didn’t object. If Floyd wanted to raise his daughter on World War Z, that was his choice.

She was so numb. Not the kind of pins-and-needles-when-your-foot-falls-asleep kind of numb, which at least signified life. Harley felt limp, dead, so heavy… it was going to happen sooner or later. He’d come and interrupt her life, which was just barely starting to shape up. He would take her, kicking and screaming, back to her life of crime. He’d probably punish her for disappearing, and not in the way she usually enjoyed.  
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours. Though it felt like so much longer, Floyd’s key began to jangle in the lock to the front door no less than two hours after the movie had begun. The credits were rolling, and Zoe had stood up to put in another one.

Reaching up to rub her sore, dry eyes, Harley gestured for Zoe to stay where she was in case someone was trying to break in with a fake key. Grabbing a bookend from one of the bookcases near the doorway, Harley didn’t pay attention as the row of non-fiction novels toppled onto their sides, all of them leaning against each other like dominoes. 

Biting her lip harshly, the blonde woman rose the heavy metal bookend above her head as she reached for the twist-lock, quickly turning it and stepping back. Floyd entered, his set of keys dangling from one of his fingers. Obviously, the first thing he noticed was the bookend she had prepared to use as a weapon. His arms were full of bags, explaining the disgruntled sounds from outside the door.

 

“Whoa, whoa… Harley, put it down… it’s me.”

 

As if she hadn’t already realized that, Floyd stared at the bookend with a mixture of apprehension and concern, instantaneously needing to know why she looked so shaken up. Harley simply stared at him for a moment, not moving. Lowering the heavy clump of metal, she turned away from him, shaking her head pitifully. He glanced towards the television where Zoe was standing, changing the movie disc.

 

“What was that about?”

 

He asked, to no one in particular. When neither of the females answered immediately, he turned to look at his daughter. She shrugged, yawning into the back of her hand before responding.

 

“There was a car in the driveway earlier. She freaked out.”

 

Casting a glare towards the younger girl, Harley Quinn exited the living room, dumping the bookend on the dining room table. Floyd’s eyes were wide, knowing what the car possibly meant. Taking a deep breath, the dark-skinned man carried the groceries into the kitchen, setting them all down in an unorganized pile on the counter.

~-~-~-

Harley had turned on the shower again for the second time that day, and the fifth time in three days. She wasn’t sure what drove her into the water, but it was most likely a subconscious need to rid herself of Joker. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. As she stepped under the water, she began to scrub at her raw skin with her newly bought pink pouf, bringing sore red patches to the surface of her flesh. Through the sound of the water tapping against the shower curtain and the marble floor of the tub, she could vaguely hear the bathroom door open.

There was the rustling of plastic, and then the door shut again. Pausing, Harley peeked her head through the curtain, glancing into the otherwise empty bathroom. There was something on the counter that hadn’t been present before she entered the shower. A plastic bag wrapped around something she couldn’t quite make out. Leaving the shower water on, the woman stepped out from the tub and grabbed the white towel off of its silver rack. Slipping it around her slender form, Harley trekked to the counter, her fingers gripping the bottom of the plastic bag in one hand while the others held her towel up.

Sharply making an upwards gesture, two items fell fell from the bag as well as a folded, handwritten note. Upon further inspection, Harley realized what the two products were. One was a bottle of permanent blue hair dye, the exact shade she liked it. The other was a similar bottle, only in pink. Her lower lip began to quiver, and she reached for the folded note, opening it in one hand. There were only three words, and two punctuation marks on the paper. But it meant so much more to her than anything anyone else had ever said.

Stay Evil, Dollface.


	7. Your Girl For Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Finally putting the ‘smut’ tag to good use. Cursing, heavy sexual content, Joker being an asswipe (more than usual)
> 
> Notes: I'm so sorry if the smut sucks, it's been a bloody long while since I last wrote any. Thank you so much for reading, and I really appreciate those of you who have been leaving reviews and comments! It really motivates me to write faster. :)

“Losing sleep and all my faith in these promises that I take  
Lay me down with a smile to down in the rain  
So give me love and all your hate tell me lies in fifty shades  
Lay me down for awhile; get lost in the grey"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“P-please, don’t stop…”

 

Bleached heels digging into either side of his spine, Harley’s fingers were curled in the bedsheets, twisting and flexing. His lips cradled her clit delicately, sending delicious shivers down her spine and causing her back to arch slightly. Both of his hands firmly held her hips, keeping her grounded. It hadn’t taken long to discover exactly how much of a screamer she was. It had always been a question lingering in the back of his mind, which he shoved away, refusing to even think about. Now that he had the answer, he wanted to hear her little mewls and loud cries of pleasure every waking moment of the day.

 

“Oh G-Gods, yes, daddy!” Floyd paused for a moment, a smirk tugging at both sides of his previously occupied mouth. Raising his head to glance up Harley’s perfectly shaped figure in amusement, he arched a playful eyebrow at her.

 

“You got a daddy kink, Harley?” Her hips moved upwards despite his grip on them, and Harley’s face twisted into one of the most agonized expressions he’d ever seen. It was so arousing, watching this woman become hot and bothered beneath his touch. 

 

“I thought I said don’t stop…”

 

She whined, her needy tone music to his ears. Chuckling, Floyd shifted on the bed so that he was eye-level with her. Slender fingers releasing the bedsheets, her nails clung to the flesh of his back as if she were a drowning woman, and he her source of life. Leaning down, his lips met with hers passionately, playing his role. It seemed to sufficiently work, breathing the life into her small yet athletic body. There was a momentary shifting of legs as she wrapped hers around his waist, trying to pull his body closer to hers.

There was something so disarming about seeing Harley naked. There was a vulnerability in her eyes he couldn’t resist. His eyes travelled from her face to her collar bone, delicate in the semi-darkness, then to her breasts. Without lingerie they sit lower, more natural, less close together, each so perfect and moulded to her form. He didn’t linger too long, just enough for her to see how beautiful she is to me. It's her eyes I want to see and my hands can tell me the rest.

The lights were off, the dim sunlight showing through the curtains making the curves of their bodies abstract with shadows. Her cerulean eyes stared up into his mahogany ones. Words were silently traded. Whispers couldn’t do that moment justice. He needed a moment to readjust himself, giving her time to admire the feeling of his sculpted body against hers. One of his hands reached up to gently caress the side of her head, fingers running through a bit of her pink fringe. He’d always liked the pink pigtail better, but it was so gorgeous, the way the pink and blue fanned out over the pillow, accompanied by the golden shimmer beneath it. 

In one fluid movement, he pressed his hips forwards, into her open legs. Harley cried out, fingers gripping him tightly. Their breathing was heavy, him leaving her a moment to adjust. When she shifted against him, Floyd leaned down to kiss her again. This time, it was much more gentle and loving. She’d been kissed so many times before, but Joker had never made her feel precious like this. She felt protected. 

 

His hips began to rock into hers, the sound of skin on skin accompanying their conjoined moans. So… special. So loved, so precious. So fucking precious.

In the twilight room their fingers caressed each other's skin as if afraid a heavier touch would break the heady magic. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other. The sound of rain pattering on the roof was overridden as he began to hasten his thrusts, eliciting louder cries from his partner, whose nails were now digging into his back harshly enough to draw blood. She was trembling, the knot in her stomach tightening to the point of pleasurable pain. When he reached down, one of his hands supporting him and the other gently caressing her, that was the end. It was a beautiful sight, watching her unravel beneath him. Her unpainted lips were parted, making a sort of ovular shape. He pulled out of the kiss simply to watch as her body spasmed beneath him, back arching off the bed.

He kissed Harley's ear lobe first, softly, with just the right hint of passion, then worked his way down her neck to her collarbone before coming right back up for the lips he knew would be waiting. Floyd wanted to draw this out. His hips had begun to slow down a little, causing her to edge momentarily. As she rode out her release, Floyd gave in to his desires, collapsing onto his forearms as he climaxed, his body not reacting nearly as much as hers had. Harley’s breathing was a bit heavier than his, he could feel it at the skin of his shoulder. Lowering himself to her side slowly, as not to crush her beneath his masculine weight, Floyd’s arms wrapped around the woman’s small figure. She obligingly squirmed into his arms, her face nuzzled into his chest.

Taking a deep breath, the darker-skinned man reached down, hooking his fingers into the fabric of one of the fuzzy blankets. Pulling it over their bodies and making sure to tuck it in around her bare skin, he repeated the action until all of the blankets on the bed had been restored to their natural order. Harley had fallen asleep in his embrace, her lips pursed and her face entirely relaxed. He liked how peaceful she looked while sleeping, not plagued by any memories or current fears that she may have. He’d gotten a glimpse of Doctor Quinzel, whom he hadn’t known existed until she told him about it.

 

-Flashback-

“What did you do before you started taking credit or debit as a hit-man?”

“I was involved with a private contractor. It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, then.”

“What about you, Quinn? What kind of crazy were you before you met Mr. Moneybags?”

“I was a psychiatrist.”

At this, Floyd had paused, a mouthful of kettle corn protruding from the corner of his lips. Harley giggled, reaching forwards to push the article of food into his mouth. After he had swallowed, he gave Harley a strange look.

“A psychiatrist?”

“It’s how I met Mistah…. The Joker. He was my patient.”

“Hoo-boy…”

“Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel at your service! “

-End Flashback-

 

It made him feel honored to be someone she felt safe enough to share that kind of information with. There probably weren’t many people around she trusted, especially after her time spent with the Joker. Resting his head against the pillow, he went over his schedule in his mind. Zoe was at school. He’d driven her that morning, and he’d be picking her up later. Floyd didn’t trust the bus system at the moment, not with what had happened two weeks before with the Lamborghini. 

Turning his head to the bedside table in order to look at the digital clock, he settled down again. It was only two, he had about an hour before he was due to pick his daughter up. Settling against Harley, his fingers gently stroke her wispy blonde hair. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say the words so fucking bad, but he knew it might push her away. She’d had a bad experience with love in the past. “I love you” wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Sitting at the dining table as she finished her grilled cheese sandwich, Harley flipped through a newspaper, focusing on the Funny Pages. She’d always loved the comics, especially the strips like Garfield and Grimmy. She’d always entertained the idea of talking animals, even tried to teach her dog to talk when she was young. It hadn’t worked, but she still had hope.

 

“I’m gonna go pick Zoe up from school, dollface. You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I’ll clean up the dishes and probably take a shower.”

 

“Y’know, I’m gonna expect you to pay half of the water bill.” Giving Floyd an innocent, puppy-like grin, Harley stood up to peck him gently on the lips while he slid his coat on. One of his hands reached up to tug playfully at her blue ponytail, earning a soft giggle. 

 

“Harl, what’s your favorite kind of music? Zoe and I usually stop off at this music shack on the way home.”

 

“I… I don’t really know. I like Jazz, I guess. “

 

Pausing for a moment, the man reached down and gently took one of Harley’s hands, raising it to his mouth and gently kissing the backs of her delicate fingers. If her face could have blushed, she’d be the color of a fire hydrant. His other hand had reached up to gently caress the side of her face, the pad of his thumb glossing over her “R O T T E N” tattoo.

 

“There’s nothing rotten about you, doll.”

 

Bending down as he used one hand to gently raise her chin, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. She responded easily, almost as if they were in sync. It was as simple a thing as breathing, their love. They hadn’t spoken it yet, but of course they didn’t need to. They knew. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against Harley’s, reveling in the scent of her perfume. She was so precious. So… fucking… precious.

 

“Drive safely.” She murmured softly, closing her eyes as he drew back. Kissing her forehead gently, he didn’t want to let her go, but he didn’t want to make Zoe wait. 

 

“I’ll do my best, princess.”

 

Smirking, he turned around and slid his car keys from his jacket pocket, opening the front door and stepping outside. As she was supposed to, Harley followed him to the door and locked it behind him. Left in an empty flat, she trodded into the livingroom and turned the television on, trying to find something at least mildly entertaining. Settling on a channel displaying old cartoon reruns, she set the remote down and left to grab one of Floyd’s beers from the fridge. He’d put them back after being convinced her concussion was healed, even though it still worried him to see her drink. Holding the chilled brown bottle in her hand, she flipped the cap off with her finger, tipping it backwards and downing a few solid centimetres from the bottle’s volume. Sitting on the couch, she curled up in the blanket left there, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to slowly fall asleep. 

-

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Floyd watched impatiently as other children met with their parents, being escorted to their respective cars. There was a school bus waiting for the stragglers, the bus driver in much the same position as himself. Zoe hadn’t shown up yet, and since it had been a couple of weeks since the Lamborghini incident, he figured she was just talking with her friends. School was dismissed at 3:00, and when Zoe didn’t show up by 3:20, Floyd’s panic began to set in. Climbing out of the car, he slammed the door violently and rushed to the office, bending over the counter as he spoke to the woman in a firm voice. She was doing something on her computer, and asked him to wait a moment before addressing him again.

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“Zoe. Zoe Lawton, she’s my daughter. Where is she?”

 

“Zoe… Lawton, you said?” Reaching for the sign-out sheet for confirmation, the woman nodded to herself and handed him the clipboard, showing him Zoe’s name.

 

“Your daughter was checked out a few hours ago, before school ended. She forgot something though, if that’s what you came looking for.”

 

Scooting her revolving chair backwards, she pulled out one of the drawers from her desk and produced a phone sporting a bright pink case. It was a plain solid shade of hot pink, like cotton candy. Courtesy of Harley. As he took the phone, he stared down at it for a moment, standing still as if he was in shock. Turning it over in his hands, he dreaded what he would see. Written in a thick, scrawling Sharpie were the words;

 

“Your girl for mine.”


	8. Babygirl's Been Bad

" Dry lightning cracks across the sky; Those stormclouds gather in her eyes  
Her daddy was a mean old Mister. Momma was an angel in the ground  
The weatherman called for a twister; she prayed, “Blow it down.”  
‘Till it’s all B L O W N - A W A Y "

 

Awakened by the rude feeling of being jostled, Harley slowly opened her eyes and glanced around the room in a panic. In front of her, Floyd was crouched beside the couch, his hand on her waist as he continued to shake her. The turmoil inside his chest wasn’t apparent on his face, seeing as he didn’t want to scare her. 

 

-Flashback-  
Turning the cell phone on, he winced as a color the shade of Joker’s hair appeared on the screen. It had been set as Zoe’s lockscreen, as well as a sloppily written time. “4:00 PM, sharp.” As he swiped to look at the home screen, the green color appeared again in the form of the wallpaper. It had an address, along with a gun emoji decorating it.   
-End Flashback-

 

“Harley baby, wake up. We’re going on a trip.”

 

“What? Where are we going?”

 

“It’s a surprise.” It hurt so much to lie to the blonde woman, but he needed his daughter back. God knows what the green-haired freak had already done to Zoe. Harley nodded slowly, reaching up to rub her eyes. She was still wearing her pajamas, which were pink with etchings of random Looney Tunes characters.

 

“Sure.. sure, just let me change.” Glancing down at his watch, Floyd shook his head urgently. It was already 3:50 and the drive would fill the gap. 

 

“We don’t have time, just come in what you’re wearing.”

 

Harley’s breath smelled like alcohol, and he felt somewhat relieved, knowing she’d be at least a little disabled. As that thought crossed his mind, guilt and shame joined it. The nice little gathering in his head didn’t leave as he hauled Harley up from the couch. He was gentle with her, but firm. His arms around her waist, he lifted her up like he would a child. Like he had when she had first appeared outside of his flat. Harley seemed a bit confused as to why she was being picked up, but she didn’t complain. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nuzzled into his shoulder, bare feet swinging as he carried her to the door.

 

“Can’cha tell me where we’re goin’? I didn’t get ta’ do my hair.”

 

Being helpful, she grasped at the door handle, pulling it closed behind them. Floyd winced as it slammed, his fingers curling into Harley’s thigh and side. Carrying her off the deck, he didn’t even bother locking up. The address was familiar to him, being the place Harley had begged him to avoid. He hadn’t the slightest clue how to get there without causing her to freak out. Laying her in the backseat, Harley scrambled into a sitting position, not even trying to buckle herself in. 

 

“Just wait, dollface. It’s not that long of a drive.”

 

Speaking as he climbed into the driver’s seat, Floyd began to multitask, pulling his door closed and revved up the engine with the other hand. Pulling his belt across his lap as a habit, he began to pull out of the driveway sloppily. Harley didn’t push him further, too tired to get into a car argument with him. Laying across the seats, she nuzzled into the leather and curled up, trying to fall asleep again. 

Awakened by the car jolting to a stop, she yawned into the back of her hand, eyes opening slowly. Floyd had already opened the door, obstructing her view of the warehouse in front of them. She sat up slowly, arms reaching for her boyfriend tiredly. 

 

“I’ll carry you if you keep your eyes closed, Princess.”

 

She could hear something… off.. In his voice. Biting her lip sullenly, she nodded her head and closed her pale baby blues. He reached into the car, and she could feel his arms snaking around her waist again. Settling into his chest, Harley ducked subconsciously, worried her head might accidentally bump the door of the car. He was cautious with her, lifting her up and out of the vehicle. Using his leg to close the door behind him, he turned towards the warehouse with Harley in his strong arms.

 

“I love you, Harley.”

 

“I know.”

 

Her voice was teasing, but also extremely nervous, wondering what had brought this on. Her body bounced slightly every time he took a step, but she settled into his even pace, keeping her eyes closed upon his request. As he walked, Floyd’s eyes watched her face, expecting her to open her eyes at any moment. If she did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Would she run? Would she be too drunk to know where she was? Circling the building, he eventually found something resembling a door. The chalky paint fell in fragments, leaving the splintered door a bare tarp. It whined on its amber hinges as his palm pressed gingerly against its moist frame. Ivy gnarled its way through broken windows, tangling its leathery shape throughout the wistful abode. The undefinable source of darkness draped over the walls like a tapestry as he took a wary step over the rotting oak floors. Before he could entirely enter the building, a regretful-looking Frost grabbed his arm and led him inside.

He was careful not to hit Harley’s head or feet on anything. Walking him in the semi-darkness down what seemed to be a hallway, Frost’s expression was impassive. In the thin light from a fading overhead bulb, he couldn’t tell. As the door at the end of the short walkway opened, he didn’t have the chance to properly tell Harley to open her eyes. She did so upon hearing the loud cackling. The sound seemed to have sobered her, small body going rigid as she shoved at Floyd’s chest, trying to get out of his grip.

 

“I-it’s him! I-it’s him, h-he’s here! I know I-I’m not hallucinating, F-Floyd, we n-need to-”

 

As she got a bearing of where she was, Harley’s pale eyes turned to look at Floyd. He could see they were damp, tears rimming her blue orbs. They were full of so many emotions, he couldn’t count them. The one that stood out the most was pure hatred. Whether it was directed towards himself, the Joker, or the situation in general, he couldn’t tell. 

 

“Weelll, lookie who’s shown up! It’s been awhile, baby..”

 

Her head snapping towards the sound of his voice, Harley shoved herself out of Floyd’s grip, stumbling to the floor. He bent down to help her up, but her small yet well-trained fist cracked against the side of his face. He’d like to say he wasn’t phased, but the punch was surprisingly well-placed. It would definitely bruise. At Floyd’s failed attempt to help her, the Joker laughed again. It was so eerie, the way that sound echoed from wall to wall.

There was a blinding light, causing Floyd to close his eyes and turn his head away from the source. It was a complete mess, to put it nicely. From outside the boarded windows, the shabby wood paneling and the peeling door that was bolted with iron rods, all looked scary and threatening enough to keep the limited number of city-goers away. However behind the scary exterior the innards were much more appealing. It looked more like a penthouse than what the inside of an abandoned building should look like. The Joker himself was sitting in a white leather armchair, which was directed towards a large television. The screen was dark, and it looked relatively unused. Harley scrambled up from the floor, trying to back away from her ex-abuser. Her back struck Floyd’s front, resulting in him stumbling and leaning against one of the walls, painted white. She wanted to run, to escape the warehouse. To escape him. But Frost was blocking the door, arms folded threateningly over his chest.

 

“Ya’ actually had the balls ta’ do it, Lawton. To be entirely honest with ya’, I thought you’d do something… something S T U P ID. Batsy ain’t gonna help ya’.”

 

“Just stop talking and give me my kid.”

 

Floyd’s voice was firm and harsh as he stood straight again, not looking in Harley’s direction. She had tears streaming down her face, and her nails were raking down her arms as if she were trying to wake from a nightmare. Joker held up a hand, shaking his head airily. His index finger waving around and pointing at various places in the room, it settled on Harley.

 

“After I’ve been convinced the goods aren’t… damaged.”

 

Smirking, the clown took a few heavy strides towards the blonde woman. He had noticed the difference in her hair. The golden shimmer beneath the funhouse colors. It angered him, the way she’d changed. And oh, the way she was dressed. That wasn’t acceptable. Oh, no no no it was not. As he advanced towards her, Harley scrambled away from him, trying to find the nearest thing that might protect her. Arms wrapping around Floyd’s leg, she gripped him tightly. Lawton had never seen her look so vulnerable… so weak, or so frightened. 

Hesitantly, he reached down and began to untangle Harley from his leg, pushing her away from him. Her chest heaving as her breathing became more erratic, Harley tried to grip him tighter but the new grip on her ankles made her budge. Stomach burning as it was dragged across the hardwood floors, she could feel a hand wrap around her neck, another around her waist. Forced onto her bare feet, she could smell him. It used to be her favorite fragrance, the mixture of blood and sweat. However now, after almost three weeks without it, she felt suddenly sick, the need to throw up raising to her jaw. His tattooed fingers grabbing her by the chin, Joker turned Harley’s head towards him. Smirking as he inspected her face, he used his thumb to open her mouth. Ignoring the pain when he bit her, he bent down to inhale her breath. Pulling back, his expression was a mixture of intrigued and disgusted.

 

“Youuuu, babygirl. Youu smell like bad girl drinks. Why do you smell like that, pooh? You been drinking… ya’ know Daddy doesn’t like it when you drink.” Harley yipped as his fingernails dug into her hipbone, having slid beneath her shirt. He expected an answer when he spoke. 

 

“Tell Mistah J. why you smell like alcohol, babygirl.”

 

“I… I was drinkin’.”

 

“Do good girls drink, pooh?”

 

“N-no, they don’t.”

 

“N-no, they don’t… what? What is my name?”

 

“J-Joker.” That response earned Harley a sharp slap to the side of her face. It wouldn’t bruise, but it stung after weeks of being cared for and protected.

 

“No no no no no, no no. What is my name… to you, darlin’?”

 

“M-Mistah J…”

 

“Or…?”

 

Harley gritted her teeth, wishing his finger was still in her mouth so she could give him one less digit on his blasted hand. She refused to speak, not wanting to use the affectionate nickname. His nails gripped her harder, slowly breaking through the skin of her waist. It hurt, and she whimpered, but all it took was the reminder that it didn’t hurt as much as acid had. Floyd couldn’t watch, his head turned to the side.

 

“You see she’s fine, so just give me Zoe and I’ll leave.”

 

“No, no no. You could have cut her pretty little face up and I’d be unconvinced. I wanna make sure you didn’t make her… S O F T.”

 

At that last word, he slid his tattooed hand over Harley’s mouth, making it look as if she was smiling. It was the most perturbed thing Floyd had ever seen, that fake grin placed over Harley’s beautiful lips. It upset him, but he needed his daughter.

 

“Now… what do you call me, babygirl?”

 

As she shook her head, the Joker made a vague gesture with the hand that had been digging into her side. There was blood beneath his untrimmed fingernails, most likely her own. Harley was made aware of the light stream of blood down her side at the sight, knowing his nails had dug much deeper than she had thought. 

 

“P-Puddin’, please stop. That h-hurts.”

 

“P-Puddin’. That’s riGHt.” He released her, letting his plaything fall onto the hardwood floors where he had beaten her three weeks prior. Slumping into a ball of pitiful Harley, the jester buried her face in her arms, trying to force the tears down. 

 

“Man, I came here to get Zoe. Give me my daughter and I’ll be out of your green hair.” The Joker smirked, slapping his knee as if Floyd’s comment had been the funniest thing he’d ever heard. His grin, unlike his hand over Harley’s face, was real as he walked towards Deadshot. Hands up at either side of his face as if he was surrendering, his movements were mocking, pretending Floyd was a big bad bully.

 

“You’re so… sERiOUS. Why are you so sERIouS, friend?” Looping his pale fingers through the straps of his chest holsters, the Joker turned towards Frost and shrugged. The man nodded slowly, turning around and exiting out the door he had come through. Floyd, watching him leave, turned towards the green-haired man with a dangerous look in his eyes. 

 

“What’s the deal? Where’s he going?”

 

“I thought you said you wanted your little girl! He’s simply fetching her.”

 

“If she’s hurt, I swear to God your clown ass will regret the day you put on that makeup.”

 

Waving a hand dismissively, the Joker crouched down beside Harley. Touching her shoulder gently, almost… affectionately, he squeezed tenderly. She pulled her head from her arms slowly, looking up at him through the tears brimming in her eyes. Reaching forwards, he stroked the side of her face, and she leaned her head into his touch, afraid to reject him. A few of his fingers closing around her chin, he lifted her head in Floyd’s direction, making her look at the other man.

 

“He brought you back to Daddy, darlin’. He brought my pumpkin home. Say thank you to the nice man.” Floyd’s eyes met Harley, inwardly begging her not to say it. The guilt in his throat was stifling, causing his heart to beat unevenly. Zoe. For Zoe. For his baby. 

 

“Thank you, Mr. Deadshot.” Her voice sounded… spiteful. There wasn’t any stammer or shakiness in her tone, in fact she sounded collected and calm. Scarily calm. The word “Deadshot” rolled off of her tongue like a curse. 

 

“Good girl.”

 

Turning her head back to face him, the Joker smirked devillishly up at Floyd before shifting to press his lips against the corner of Harley’s, trailing them to her jaw and tilting her head up slightly. She closed her eyes; out of ecstasy or disgust, Floyd couldn’t tell. He looked away, towards the door that was opening beside him. Zoe came first, followed by Frost. She ran into her father’s arms, not being restrained. Bending down to pull her to him, the dark-skinned man inspected his daughter’s face cautiously, making sure she wasn’t injured.

 

“Are you okay, baby? Did they hurt you?”

 

“No. I was scared but you’re here and we can go home now, right?” Her soft, childish voice spoke quickly, as if she was out of breath. Floyd nodded, ignoring whatever was going on behind him.

 

“Yes, yes baby we can go home. Harley has to stay here.” Zoe looked confused, which quickly turn into some kind of sorrow. Harley had become something of a second mother to her in the past three weeks she’d known her. Bending up to kiss her dad’s cheek, she grabbed his hand.

 

“Why is she staying here? He’s a bad man.” Pointing a finger towards the Clown Prince of Crime, Zoe’s face twisted in disgust. Turning to look at the man, he could see that Harley had been pulled into his arms. Her own were wrapped around the clown’s neck, her face buried in his chest as she sobbed. He was gently stroking her hair, toying with it between his fingers.

 

“I know he is Zoe, but we need to leave h-” Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound coming from the entrance of the building. Frost turned around, drawing his gun and aiming it down the long hallway, firing off a few shots. Zoe screamed, huddling into her father for safety. Joker looked up, a mixture of anger and annoyance spreading across his painted features.

 

“What the fuck was that?”

 

Floyd turned his head towards the other man, the man he quite possibly hated the most in this Godforsaken world. Gently kissing the top of Zoe’s head, his mouth twisted into a smirk. As he spoke, Harley pulled her head out of Joker’s chest, tear-stained face directed towards Zoe and her father.

 

“It’s a funny story. Y’know what you said about the Bat? W E L L…”


	9. Someone I wanted to forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Would you bleed for me? Lick it off my lips like you needed me  
> Would you sit me on the couch with your fingers in my mouth  
> You look so cool when you’re reading me  
> Would you lie for me? Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me  
> Would you pin me to a wall, would you beg or would you crawl  
> Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?”

 

 

Introduce a little anarchy, upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos.

 

The sound of gunfire rang through the warehouse, almost as if some idiot was firing off random shots. Only in this case, the idiot was real, and he was the Joker. Floyd couldn’t blame him, seeing as the cowled man had a tendency to move quickly. At the mention of Batman, the green-haired freak stood up, shoving Harley onto the floor. She had since stopped crying, now looking in a state of panic. Her cerulean eyes were glued to the dark hallway where the Bat had come from, wonder on her expression as she began to piece things together.

  
Suddenly, her sharp gaze turned upwards to Floyd. He had bent down and taken her arms in his firm grip, lifting her off the floor. If she was still intoxicated, it didn’t show.

 

“C’mon, doll, help me out here. We gotta go.”

 

“But… but you t-took me here-”

 

“And now I’m getting you out. Do you wanna stay here and get shot, or would you rather come back home?”

 

Home. Home. That was singlehandedly the best word Harley had ever heard in her life. Breaking out of Belle Reve, it had sounded so promising. Only now did she realize home wasn’t a place. It was a person.

 

_ Floyd. _

 

“I-I wanna go - ”

 

“Then come on!”

 

He tried to keep his voice quiet under the raining gunfire, but he had to yell in order to be heard. His fingers closing around her small wrist, he dragged the blonde woman towards him. Having instructed Zoe to run towards the exit already, he just had to get Harley out of there. The madman was oblivious to Floyd’s escape, frantically shooting around the space in an attempt to nab his long-time enemy. There was a sick, trigger-happy grin on the Joker’s face as he shot, as if he didn’t care who got hit, and he probably didn’t. The gunfire ended suddenly, then started up as quickly as it had stopped. Bullets ricochet off of Batman’s suit, flying in every direction. 

Yet after the momentary pause, the Joker’s aim had changed - not for the vigilante, but for the dark-skinned hitman and the jester. There was blinding pain, and yet his feet kept moving - moving - moving. Floyd knew that if he stopped, he’d die. Pushing Harley through the entryway door, he slammed the metal behind him - hearing the sound of metal pittering and pattering on the door like rain on a roof. There wasn’t even a stumbling to his step as he ran towards the exit, dragging Harley with him. As they finally made it out of the godforsaken building, the little spots in Floyd’s vision began to interfere with his sense of direction. Harley noticed when he started to slow down, turning to look at him with confusion. A short glance was all it took for her to notice the blood.

 

“Floyd? Floyd, you got shot -”

 

His hand was already on the wound at his side, and he waved his other towards the car. Zoe had already climbed into the back, hiding under the view of the window as he’d told her to. The concern in Harley’s eyes was open and shameless as she lifted his shirt - blood immediately painting her pale fingers red.  “Get in the car, you can fix it when we get back.”

 

Nodding, Harley helped him into the passenger seat - running around to the other side in order to drive. Starting the car as the engine hummed beneath her, she swerved out of the warehouse’s vicinity, speeding down the gravel road. The car was jostled and bumped as she edged 110 miles an hour. He was breathing heavily, yet he suffered in silence - until he yelled. “No, we’re not going back home. They know where that is, we have to go somewhere else.”

 

“Like where? We don’ exactly have safe houses lyin aroun!” Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Harley glanced backwards - ignoring the chaos she was causing on the road. Zoe had reached out, her small hand resting on Harley as she looked up at her with wide eyes.

 

“We gotta go to mama’s house.”

 

Floyd didn’t interject, though his expression showed the distaste he felt at the idea. He had safe houses, but he knew that they were too far away for his injury. Harley didn’t like the idea either, but if going to see Susan was the only way to help him, she would do so. “Where is it?” Floyd reached for his phone, sliding it shakily from his pocket and flicking it on. Dialing a number, he handed the phone to Zoe - probably so that the woman on the other end of the line wouldn’t freak out on her ex husband. Harley didn’t enjoy the idea of meeting ex Mrs. Lawton, though it’d be funny to show her how much he’d UPgraded. 

  
Zoe took the phone slowly, holding it up to her ear and looking out the window as the other end of the line picked up. “Floyd, what the fuck?! What the hell did you do? Where the fuck is Zoe?” The yelling was audible even to the people in the front of the car, and the little girl had to pull the phone back from her ear. “It’s me, mom. I’m okay, we’re comin’ to see you. Daddy’s hurt and we can’t go to a hospital.” Zoe’s voice was surprisingly calm, her ability to stay strong during such a situation drawing Harley’s admiration. “Hurt? What did he get you into? Baby, are you okay?” “I’m fine, mom, it’s daddy that needs your help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took SO LONG to update! I've had a hard time writing this. I know it's short, but I'm hoping to get a little bit more out in the future.


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